


Not Accepted

by Dubbrubz



Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Cinnamon roll Matt, Comfort, Depressed Nate, Fluff, M/M, Self-Harming Nate, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 02:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10479903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dubbrubz/pseuds/Dubbrubz
Summary: will you end my pain?will you take my life?will you bleed me out?will you hang me out to dry?will you take my soulin the midnight rain?while I’m falling apart...while I’m going insane...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Depictions of self-harm/cutting will be described  
> Please, read with caution loves. I don't want you being hurt in some way by what I write~

# Not Accepted 

Another kiss to his scared and burned arms made Nate cringe. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be here, pinned under Matt's warm gaze and gentle touch. His soft words made the raven-haired male's hairs absolutely prickle with disgust. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve someone as wonderful as Matt. He didn't deserve the love, the soft reassurance. He didn't deserve to be treated like a human being. He was a horrible waste of space. A disgusting creature. The soft words that the brunette hovering over him spoke infested his mind like parasites, his skin crawling like thousands of maggots that wriggled under the flesh as the slightly larger male traced his fingers down Nate's bare sides gently. He wanted to shove him away, to scream at him that he hated this. And yet, he was paralyzed. All Nate could do was stare at the ceiling, his fingers curling in the sheets.

Matt held his arm so gently between his warm hands, kissing each and every individual cut, scar and burn, breathing soft flattery. He reminded Nate how beautiful he was, how much he loved him. Nate felt sick. He couldn't return Matt's love. He couldn't feel the way the brunette felt. Matt deserved better then him. His mind was alive with a flurry of insults, his nerves on fire, making him hyper aware of the soft brush of the sheets pressing against his back, the feeling of Matt's warm lips on his skin, the tickling of his breath. He wanted to escape. The walls of his mind were closing in, caging him and forcing him down. He wanted Matt to use him. To completely abuse him. To break every bone in his body, tear away his skin, leaving him sobbing and choking from the pain. He wanted to be fucked raw and sore, then tossed to the side like he was just a revolting piece of trash. He wanted the sharp and acidic burn of insults to flow past Matt's sweet lips that would leave his own fake protests stuck to the roof of the mouth like the pills he wished to overdose and end his pain with.

Nate wanted to claw out his eyes, rip out his teeth. He wanted to shred his vocal chords and gouge out his lungs. He wanted his body to be completely disemboweled and left to bleed out. The soft and loving gestures from his boyfriend would continue for what felt like hours. He didn't move, didn't speak, just took the painful and searing touch to his skin, his soul seething and boiling beneath his flesh. This was a far worse pain then any he could muster upon himself. Later that night, when they were in bed, Matt's breathing softly sounding beside him, Nate's fingers began to twitch. He needed release from this. He needed the commanding and sharp sting of the razors he hid as they dragged across his skin, the sizzling heat from the lighter and metal strips he also kept hidden from Matt.

The brunette had thought he quit. He'd thought that Nate had rid himself of the objects of self mutilation, freeing himself from their possessive and unforgiving grasp, and yet, he'd lied. Sure, he'd thrown out a few razors and a lighter, claiming that's all he had, but, there was still the things he kept tucked under the sink behind the cleaning products. He waited for Matt to be so deep into sleep, he wouldn't be disturbed by movement before Nate pushed himself to his feet, padding over the smooth wood flooring to the bathroom. He inched the door open, and then shut once he stepped inside, the golden light that assaulted his eyes when he flipped the switch casting out from under the door like a madman's crooked grin. The raven-haired musician had slipped into his own personal hell, his mind echoing and screaming, painfully loud.

He crouched in front of the sink, opening the lower cabinet doors and digging past the cleaning supplies and bottled chemicals until his fingers grazed over the sharp and cool metal of the razor shoved hurriedly back there. He drew it out, watching the weapon of mutilation glint in his palm. It was strangely hypnotic to watch the glinting glare of the bulb above his head reflect off the shined metal, leaving him buzzing with energy. His fingers curled around the blade and he closed his eyes, bringing one arm up while the other held the blade. He deserved this. He deserved the pain and misery. He didn't deserve Matt and his kindness. He pressed the corner of the blade to his wrist, dragging it down the hollow of his arm. Everything was icy cold for a split moment before his whole body thrummed with burning and stinging pain. His hands and legs trembled, his jaw set roughly.

He switched hands, repeating the same cut down his opposite arm. Flesh tore with a sharp ache, his blood trickling over his pale skin as it dripped onto the counter and floor. The blade dropped from his weakened grasp with a soft clink as Nate stared down at the damage he'd inflicted upon himself. Crimson red stood out in pinpoints against the suddenly blindingly white floor tiles and sink counter, like beacons of light in the dark abyss that swallowed him. He suddenly seemed to snap out of his trance, staring at the extent of the damage. He shoved his arm under the sink spigot, turning on the water and inhaling sharply. Muscles and flesh that weren't meant to be exposed to the open air screamed and burned in sharp protest to the icy liquid that attempted to wash away his mistakes, leaving him to bite his lip almost clean through and squeeze his eyes shut in attempts to keep back the soft whines and curses that wanted to pass his lips.

His whole body began to tremble. What was wrong with him? Why had he done this again? Nate knew this never would get him anywhere, and yet he continued to relapse. He continued to return to the harsh bite of the blades he'd found comfort in since he was a teenager. He tried desperately to stop the bleeding, only succeeding in smearing blood over the countertop, cursing under his breath as tears bubbled in his eyes. He failed Matt. He promised his boyfriend he would quit. He promised that he would never return to the destructive habit. And yet, the buzz from the stinging pain caused by cutting worked better then any drug ever could and it was defiantly twice as addictive. But, just like any overdose, cutting killed, too. And it seemed Nate finally hit his overdose point. He became weak and light-headed the more blood he sent spilling down the drain until finally, he stumbled back into the wall. He slid down the smooth surface until he was in a seated position, cradling his bloodied arms. Blood soaked through his shirt as he tipped his head back and rested it against the wall, swallowing thickly as he soon simply accepted his fate.

He was doing the world a favor. He was erasing a stain that it was stupid enough to create. This thought gave him bitter solace, a small, weak smile creeping onto his face. He was slipping...  
Slipping...  
Slipping...  
And by the time he heard his name being screamed, the sound reverberated like he was submerged in the deep end of the swimming pool, distorted and distant. He was gone... And he couldn't be retrieved.


End file.
